


Bonds Everlasting

by chicago_ruth



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Declarations Of Love, Devotion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, M/M, Marking, Pining, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 09:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/pseuds/chicago_ruth
Summary: Constantin's diagnosis leaves him frustrated and angry and feeling beyond alone. De Sardet is there to help calm him down and give him a little bit of brightness during this dark time.
Relationships: Constantin d'Orsay/De Sardet, Constantin d'Orsay/Male De Sardet
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80
Collections: Happy Greedfall





	Bonds Everlasting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



Malichor.

The fucking malichor had somehow reached Constantin. He thought he was free of Sérène, free of his father, free of everything he hated about the old world.

Yet here he was, tainted by it still, and it made despair fill him. Constantin stared at his pale, black-streaked face in the mirror, and the anger, the hopelessness, was too much. He didn’t have the strength to even punch the mirror, but he found the nearest object—a hairbrush—and threw it across the room.

It didn’t quite satisfy him, but it was a start, so he found another item, and another, and another, until his private chamber was in complete disarray and he was panting for breath. The malichor couldn’t keep him down. He wouldn’t let it. He refused!

A knock on the door startled him, and he snarled, “Go away! Can’t a man have a little peace around here?”

The answering voice was calm and concerned. “Constantin? Are you all right?”

Laurent—his dear, sweet cousin. Constantin regretted his tone immediately. Laurent did not deserve any of Constantin’s ire. He took a step towards the door, and found that he’d exhausted himself so much that he suddenly could not stand. He stumbled and crashed in a loud thud.

“Constantin? I’m coming in!” Laurent came in, closing the door behind him. As soon as his gaze met Constantin’s, he rushed to his side. “What happened?”

“Nothing. A weakness of spirit, that is all.” Constantin laughed bitterly. “I am—I am afraid, dear cousin. But you need not concern yourself with me.”

Laurent frowned at him, then extended a hand. “Come. Let’s get you to bed, and we can talk.”

Laurent’s hand was warm and dry, such a contrast to Constantin’s own cold and clammy one, but Laurent made no comment as he helped Constantin stand and guided him to bed. He said nothing about the state of the room either, for which Constantin was immensely grateful.

“Ah, cousin. You are such a boon to have with me.” He was reluctant to let go of Laurent’s hand once properly seated, and so the connection lingered for longer than might have been seemly. But who would notice a little physical affection between cousins? Laurent didn’t seem to mind, in any case, as he sat down next to him, thigh to thigh.

Constantin let his head fall against Laurent’s shoulder. “Truly, dear cousin. I could not have come this far without you.”

“You devalue yourself, Constantin. I’ve been watching, and the city is flourishing under your governorship. Several of the merchants thanked me personally. Apparently the red tape under Lady Morange was long and difficult to cut.” Laurent’s fingers massaged the skin of Constantin’s hand, almost absently.

“Are not most of my good deeds your own? I am not deaf, cousin. Admiral Cabral spoke highly of you the last time she came to negotiate, and the Ambassadors from Thélème and the Bridge Alliance both speak of you with grudging respect.”

The side of Laurent’s neck grew darker, a rare visual cue to his sudden discomfort. Laurent was a great diplomat, rarely showing his emotions, yet Constantin had learned all the little tells.

He didn’t call Laurent on it though. He did not want to make Laurent even more uncomfortable.

“You know all I do, I do for you,” Laurent whispered quietly. “They are not my victories. They are _your_ victories.”

Constantin chuckled, and then coughed, because the damned malichor chose that time to make itself known once more. He cursed the vile disease, for Laurent pulled away with a grimace.

“You should be resting. Here, I’ll help you back into bed. Don’t waste your energy on me.”

“My energy is never wasted on you, dear cousin,” Constantin answered, though he allowed Laurent to help him lie down and draw the covers up. “Tell me, though, why you came here. Surely it was not to watch me waste away.”

He’d hurt Laurent—he saw the furrow in his brow and the slight downturn of his lips. “I wish nothing but good health for you. And I’ve tracked down where to find the great healer of the natives. I set off in the morning. That is why I’m here, in fact. To let you know. I could not… I could not bear to leave the city without seeing you.”

Ever so thoughtful, his cousin. Would that Constantin could keep him ever at his side. He’d thought of proposing marriage more than once, but knew that it was a foolish idea. There would be nothing to gain, politically, from a marriage between them, and his father would never allow it.

His father was not on Teer Fradee, though.

It was a thought. If he was going to waste away from the disease anyway…

Constantin startled when Laurent’s hand came up to his jaw and rubbed the skin there.

“When was the last time you shaved, Constantin?” Laurent asked, his brow furrowed. “I know you’re ill, but…”

The touch was searingly hot, and it made Constantin’s chest constrict more than the damned malichor. “I sent my valet away for the day. I didn’t feel like going out, and it seemed pointless to have him attending me when I’m like this.”

Laurent stood up abruptly and cast his gaze around the room. “Have you a shaving kit here? Nevermind, I’ll go ask a servant.”

Before Constantin could stop him and say that he had no interest in being shaved, Laurent had poked his head out the door and was calling for a washing up kit to be brought to the room.

“There’s really no need,” Constantin complained. He saw the way the servant eyed the mess in the room, and he was almost sorry for the work he’d created for her.

“Thank you,” Laurent said to her. “I’ll take it from here. And have the kitchen send dinner up in an hour, would you?”

She nodded and curtsied before she left, probably glad to be out of this room of sickness and despair.

“Now what? I’m not going to shave,” Constantin said. “There’s simply no point.” He felt quite a bit like a petty child throwing a tantrum, but he decided he deserved to wallow in his misery. He was dying, after all.

Laurent shook his head, but he had a small, indulgent smile on his face. It was a smile that Constantin loved, one he sometimes provoked by playing up his own helplessness. He drank up all these little signs of affection that Laurent bestowed upon him, and he had no shame in doing what he could to get more of them.

“You’re not going to be shaving yourself, Constantin. I will.”

It took a moment for the suggestion to sink in, and when it did, Constantin felt the beginnings of a blush on his face. He had trained himself not to blush, most of the time, but he couldn’t help the sudden, unbidden desire that took hold of him. He had to steady himself with one hand, and barely dared to look Laurent in the eyes.

“You? You’re going to… to shave me?” Constantin asked with a choked voice. “Do you even know how?”

Instead of being insulted, Laurent laughed. “I’ve shaved myself plenty, Constantin. I don’t have a barber handy with me on the road.”

“It’s different to shave somebody else, though. You can’t feel the blade.” Constantin could imagine it, though. Having Laurent massaging the oils into his face, touching him gently, moving his jaw this way and that and gently scraping the blade over his skin.

He wanted it so much.

Laurent snorted a small laugh. “Should I not? If you don’t trust me. I can send for your valet, after all, and have him do it.”

“I do! I do trust you.” Constantin carefully stood up. “If you insist on this, then I would rather it be you. I can’t stand the thought of anybody else touching me right now.”

To this, Laurent ducked his head, possibly to hide the small smile. Constantin saw it though, and it heartened him somewhat. He still felt weak and useless, but at least Laurent was with him.

Constantin moved to the chair in front of the vanity, where the servant had set up the water and shaving kit. The mirror showed his pallor, and the black veins that traveled across his skin, making it clear to all that he was tainted. The scruff on his jaw did nothing to hide the sickness, just a day’s worth of growth, and the hairs were blond besides. If he’d had the strength for it, he might have shattered that mirror.

Laurent came to stand behind him and settled his hands on the back of the chair. In the mirror, Constantin saw the hard set to his eyes. “It’ll be all right, Constantin.”

“Yes, I suspect you aren’t going to butcher my face,” Constantin said lightly, although he knew that Laurent wasn’t talking about the shave.

He saw the same indulgent smile from earlier, with a tinge of sadness this time, and it made despair wash over Constantin all over. Bad enough that he was going to die, but that his death should hurt Laurent as well! It seemed that Constantin’s entire existence was to inconvenience Laurent.

“Then let’s get started.” Laurent picked up the bottle of oil and poured some onto his hands.

Although Constantin knew the process of a shave, he was still startled when Laurent set his oiled hands to Constantin’s jaw and started massaging.

It took all of his willpower not to moan obscenely.

Maybe it had been a bad idea to agree to this after all. Constantin was suddenly conscious of exactly how close Laurent was, his body pressing up against the back of Constantin’s head, and those hands massaging his skin. He began to doubt his ability to remain calm throughout the shave.

He thought to call it all off, to spare himself the embarrassment, but when he looked in the mirror he saw the determined set in Laurent’s eyes and he didn’t have the heart—or the desire—to.

When Laurent deemed Constantin’s face well-oiled enough, he moved on to the soap. Constantin watched in fascination at how quickly Laurent whisked it into a lather with a brush, and he realized that his cousin must, indeed, have been shaving himself quite often to have gotten so deft at everything. Constantin wouldn’t have said that he himself could shave himself with any skill. He could maybe manage to scrape the blade down his own face without cutting himself, when he was in full health and had steady hands.

He clutched at the arms of the chair as Laurent brushed the foam over his jaw and chin, even down to the spot between his nose and lips. When that was done, Laurent picked up the razor blade with one hand and placed his other on the top of Constantin’s cheek. Constantin was forced to lean his head heavily against Laurent’s torso. His valet never shaved him like _this_.

But he couldn’t even imagine complaining.

The first stroke of the blade was gentle and short, as if testing. Constantin held his breath and waited.

“That was okay?” Laurent asked quietly. “Not too much pressure?”

“No? Should I be worried after all?” Constantin joked, although his voice came out almost strangled.

Laurent shook his head. “No. All right, I’m going to continue. Don’t speak.”

Even without the order, Constantin would have been hard pressed to say anything. His eyes fluttered closed as he enjoyed the sensations and gentle sounds. Laurent’s hot fingers on his face, guiding him to turn this way or that; Laurent’s steady breathing, almost in time with the scrape of the blade.

Laurent stroked the blade above Constantin’s lip, much more hesitantly than anywhere else, though his hand was still steady and true. Then he nudged Constantin’s head back even further, to expose his neck, and that should have scared Constantin at least a little bit—but he hadn’t lied when he said he trusted his cousin. There was nobody he trusted more than Laurent.

It would have been nice to experience all this without the malichor.

When the first pass was complete, Laurent dampened a towel and wiped Constantin’s face clean. One glance in the mirror showed Constantin looking marginally better than he had before, although his skin was still pallid and the darkness of the veins remained. At least his skin was smooth.

At least Laurent was standing there with him.

Laurent let go of Constantin and reached for the foamed soap again, presumably to do a second pass. It wasn’t necessary, Constantin should have said. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be, and the blond hairs of his beard were invisible in comparison to the malichor.

Yet he could not deny himself this connection with Laurent. So he kept quiet and cherished the attention. He would memorize all of these sensations and think back on them when Laurent went off on his next trip.

“We’re almost done,” Laurent said quietly.

Despite how carefully he said them, the words sounded so loud in comparison to the quiet of the past twenty minutes. Constantin startled and flinched into the next touch of the blade. He hissed in pain; Laurent drew the razor back instantly.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!”

“It’s nothing,” Constantin answered.

But it wasn’t nothing. When he looked in the mirror, he could see the black ichor of the malichor slowly oozing out of the wound. He saw the devastated look in Laurent’s eyes. Constantin picked up the damp towel and wiped the remaining shaving foam, as well as the dark, blackened blood away.

Constantin attempted a smile. “See? I’m fine! I mean, I’m not fine, in the long run, but this is nothing you did. You’ve brightened my evening considerably, dear cousin. No need to worry about my dramatic self for a while. I’m sure you’ll be thankful once I’m gone. Finally, no need to pick up after Constantin’s messes. No more tantrums, no more dramatics—”

“Stop it!” Laurent shouted suddenly. The razor fell from his hand and landed with a loud clatter. “Just stop! I want to be strong for you, Constantin, but how can I—I don’t want to lose you either. I _can’t_ lose you.” He wrapped his arms around Constantin’s shoulders and buried his head against his collar. “I’ve never thought you a burden, your dramatics amuse me, I love having you rely on me, I just—I love you. I can’t bear the thought of you dying. Don’t think it’s only _you_ who is suffering now.”

If Constantin were a better man, he would have been saddened by this declaration. As it was, his heart was near to bursting with joy, hearing the depths of Laurent’s devotion. _Love me, yes. Need me. Desire me_.

Constantin raised his hand to pat one of Laurent’s arms. He turned his head to look at his cousin, and then, by some strange accident, his lips brushed with Laurent’s.

Or perhaps it was not an accident, because Laurent deepened the kiss instantly. He maneuvered himself around to sit on Constantin’s lap, and then he kissed him more soundly and cradled Constantin’s head as he did so, with the same gentle command as when he’d been shaving him.

When they broke apart, Constantin was delirious from lack of breath and pleasure both. He was not strong enough to deny himself. Not now, when he was dying, when he had Laurent in his lap willing and eager. He kissed back, bringing his arms up to wrap around Laurent’s back, and they kissed and held each other, attempting to melt ever closer into each other.

But finally some sense broke through to Constantin. “The malichor. You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t risk—”

“It is not contagious,” Laurent countered. “If it were, I would have caught it when I was attending to my mother daily.”

“I am a deeply selfish man, Laurent,” Constantin said, “But don’t tempt me like this if you don’t mean it. I’m sure my feelings must have been obvious to you—”

“—and you were oblivious to mine?” Laurent interrupted. “Blessed mercy, Constantin. I’ve never felt half as much as I do for you. There is no other person I would follow to the ends of the world. I have been ever at your side since we were children; I will continue to be your ally, your companion, until the end. But the ending won’t be here. I promise you. You don’t want to die? Well, I don’t want you to die. I will do everything in my power to find a cure for you.”

That was so overly optimistic that Constantin would have laughed, if Laurent hadn’t said it with such a straight face. “I… I’m speechless. Thank you, dear cousin. Know that I will fight as well. I will hold on as long as I can. I won’t promise that I will be agreeable, or of sunny temperament, but I will not allow your efforts to be wasted.”

Then he pulled Laurent into another kiss, one that Laurent returned eagerly. He tasted of the strange, sweet wine that the locals made, and Constantin thought that he would need to request the wine more often from now on. It would remind him of these sweet kisses.

“To bed,” Laurent said when he pulled away. “Please. Let’s go to bed. I don’t—I don’t want to leave here without having made love to you at least once.”

Constantin nodded and followed Laurent, though the brief moment where their bodies were parted was almost painfully cold. He had desired Laurent for as long as he could remember. His earliest fantasies were of Laurent; when he took lovers, they all looked strikingly similar to his cousin. Truly, there was not a single moment of his life where he didn’t want all of Laurent’s attention on him.

He wished he weren’t ill with the malichor, but at least it gave him this.

Laurent stripped himself of his clothes quickly. Far faster, in fact, than should have been possible given the many layers he wore. Mayhap that, too, was a skill he learned on the road.

His body was a sight to behold. His constant traveling and training had given him a well-muscled body that enticed Constantin to touch. He had near flawless skin, peppered with a light dusting of hair on his chest that got thicker further down. His cock, which Constantin had seen back when they occasionally went to the baths together, had grown since their youth. It was a respectable size, though still soft.

Laurent was perfect. Constantin was biased, but he knew there could be no man more attractive than Laurent.

He felt much more self-conscious removing his own clothes and exposing how much he’d wasted away since the beginning of the disease. He had never been much for sport, so there were no firm muscles to begin with, but what little definition he’d had was gone now. His skin, always on the pale side, was even more garishly white. Black lines of sickness marred the entirety of his flesh.

There was a flash of pain in Laurent’s eyes when he gazed upon Constantin, but he was such a good actor that he smoothed his expression and replaced it with one of desire.

Constantin was too selfish to put a stop to anything.

“You are such a sight,” Constantin murmured, climbing on top of the bed and straddling Laurent’s thighs. He rubbed his thumb across Laurent’s jaw, feeling the prickle of his beard. “I am sure your looks charm our potential allies as much as your words do.”

Laurent chuckled and settled his hands on Constantin’s hips. “And _I_ am sure the other leaders are not so easily swayed, Constantin.” Then he leaned forward and kissed Constantin’s jaw, his chin, his neck. He sucked a bruise into Constantin’s collar, and Constantin was amazed that such a simple thing could make him feel as though he were drowning in arousal.

He would blame it on the malichor, but he was sure even at his healthiest the result would have been this.

When Laurent was done, he stared at the dark bruise with an equally dark expression. “It’s deeper than the malichor,” he said, with conviction. “It’s more permanent, too. I’ll be back to replace it when it fades. And after you’ve healed, too. Forever.”

Dear stars, was it a wonder that Constantin loved Laurent? He had no adequate response, so he cupped Laurent’s jaw and kissed him again.

Laurent’s hands roamed over Constantin’s back while they made out, and Constantin didn’t realize that sex could be desperate and slow all at once. His heart hurt with want, but he didn’t want to turn this into a quick, sordid affair either. Laurent deserved better than what Constantin gave his paid lovers.

Eventually they ended up on their sides, with Laurent gripping Constantin’s cock and stroking up and down. Constantin idly thought that he would love to suck Laurent off, but he wanted to keep kissing Laurent more, so he simply reached down and wrapped his hand around both their cocks, delighting in that sensation almost as much as in the expression of bliss that settled on Laurent’s face.

Constantin couldn’t recall ever caring about his partner’s pleasure more than his own. He knew he was a selfish lover, most of the time, had been accused of it on more than one occasion. Yet now his own pleasure was an afterthought.

With every kiss, Constantin attempted to show Laurent how much he cared for him. That this devotion went both ways, that he appreciated his cousin more than anybody else in the world. Their breath heated the air between them, and there was barely a moment when their lips did not touch. Constantin carefully caressed the inside of Laurent’s mouth with his tongue, and suckled on his lower lip, all while he stroked them both, smearing their precome over their shafts and rubbing the foreskins against each other.

Laurent, in turn, squeezed and massaged Constantin’s ass. On occasion, his fingers dipped into the crease, circling very pointedly.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Constantin asked. “I think there’s oil around here, somewhere.”

“No. Not today. I just—I just want to touch you. I love this. Both of our cocks together.”

 _Not today_ implied there would be another time. Constantin vowed to be more prepared next time. He imagined his cousin’s considerable length inside him, and involuntarily thrust up, drawing a moan out of Laurent as well.

Dear stars, but he loved his cousin so much.

As much as Constantin wanted this to last forever, he couldn’t hold out that long. Not with all the years of pent up desires. When Laurent bit him next, on his jaw, along the newly smooth-shaven skin, the pleasure bubbled over. Constantin cried out and spilled into his hand.

With anybody else, Constantin would have been in a rush to pull his over-sensitive, spent cock away. But it was Laurent, so he kept stroking, ignoring the little aftershocks of pain.

“My lucky star,” Constantin whispered, stroking more pointedly. “You are the only good thing in my life. The light that guides me. My one ally.”

“Constantin, Constantin,” Laurent panted, and then his face screwed up in pleasure too. The heat of his seed splashed into Constantin’s hand, and he took all of it, held Laurent through the little lingering tremors of pleasure.

When it seemed Laurent had well and truly spent, Constantin drew his hand up and licked it clean. He saw Laurent’s eyes widen, followed by a hitch of breath.

“Please, Constantin. I’ve already spent. I can’t go again.”

Constantin wished he could say he had the energy for another round, but even as a jest it was far from true. The illness slammed into him, suddenly, and he was beyond exhausted. But there was no need for Laurent to know that.

He dropped his hand onto Laurent’s thigh. “Thank you, dear cousin.”

“Thank you?”

“For being with me now. For not abandoning me. I will cease with my dramatics, but know that it is thanks to you that I can keep going.”

Laurent pulled him closer and kissed the top of his head. “Constantin. I will save you. I promise.”

 _Don’t make promises you can’t keep_ , Constantin would have said, but he had no desire to quarrel now. He just wanted to enjoy Laurent’s presence.

He was resigned, maybe, knowing that there was almost no chance of survival, but he wasn’t going to give up. Not now. Not that he knew he had Laurent’s love and devotion and desire.

Whatever it took, he would stay at Laurent’s side.


End file.
